


Divine

by reanimatorjuice



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Pining, kinda nsfw? idk man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reanimatorjuice/pseuds/reanimatorjuice
Summary: “Peer of the gods, the happiest man I seem / Sitting before thee, rapt at thy sight, hearing / Thy soft laughter and thy voice most gentle, / Speaking so sweetly. / Then in my bosom my heart wildly flutters, / And, when on thee I gaze never so little, / Bereft am I of all power of utterance, / My tongue is useless. / There rushes at once through my flesh tingling fire, / My eyes are deprived of all power of vision, / My ears hear nothing by sounds of winds roaring, / And all is blackness. / Down courses in streams the sweat of emotion, / A dread trembling o'erwhelms me, paler than I / Than dried grass in autumn, and in my madness / Dead I seem almost.” - SapphoOr, all the things Zagreus thinks of Hypnos but has yet to say.
Relationships: Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I get that Hypnos is a little gremlin in Hades canon and I love him for it, but I think about how Hypnos is genuinely happy to see Zagreus and I believe that his advice isn’t to make fun of Zag, but an attempt at actually helping even if it doesn’t come off well. I think Zagreus understands that, which is why he’s basically the only one who’s kind to Hypnos. I love that Zag has a heart of gold and seems patient with almost everybody. To quote Michael Bolton from “Go the Distance,” “A hero’s strength is measured by his heart.” 
> 
> Other headcanons I like that could be useful to know: Hypnos isn’t actually slacking when he sleeps on the job. He has to sleep in order to help mortals and gods alike with his specialty, so he’s basically doing double-time working for Hades as well and gets shit for no reason. I also like the firm reminder that all gods are to be feared. Hypnos put Zeus himself to sleep TWICE and is the descendant of Chaos. Hypnos is overwhelmingly sweet and chill 99% of the time but he can and will fucking DECIMATE a bitch if he has to. Terrifying. 
> 
> Anyway. Lastly, I have brain rot from all the art of sexy Hypnos and can’t see him as anything less than beautiful. Sorry :)

Zagreus couldn’t recall when his view of Hypnos shifted into something more. Time was mostly meaningless to gods, anyway -- and so were feelings half the time -- but it simultaneously felt like centuries and days between the time when Zagreus felt the love between childhood friends for Hypnos and the tender adoration he felt now. 

It had started small, and slowly. Then things started to get out of hand. 

Zagreus noticed his eyelashes first. Hypnos was often asleep when Zagreus returned to the house of Hades, as could be expected. He usually startled awake upon hearing Zagreus’s footsteps down the hall, but sometimes, if Zagreus was quiet, he could get very close without disturbing the god’s peaceful slumber. 

His lashes were white as snow and fluttered against his cheeks like dandelion tufts as he slept. Zagreus surprised himself, noticing his sudden longing to feel them against his skin like butterfly kisses. He watched Hypnos’s eyes flit beneath the thin lids, and he wondered what Hypnos dreamed about. 

Hypnos was known to be a sensitive soul. 

Zagreus’s heart ached when he remembered the times he’d caught opalescent tears quietly running down his cheeks. He’d always been there to wipe them away, and recalled how Hypnos would lean into the touch. He recalled those white lashes being graced with droplets of those tears like dew on a spiderweb. Zagreus would have to restrain himself from soothing Hypnos with gentle kisses along his face. 

Then, he’d started to notice more about Hypnos, like his hair. 

White curls fell around Hypnos’s face, spilling over the silk sleeping mask Hypnos always wore. Zagreus’s heart started to skip a beat whenever Hypnos brushed a strand behind his ear with a giggle, biting his lip at one of Zagreus’s little quips that he told only in hopes to elicit that exact reaction. 

Zagreus spent long enough staring to see that there was more color to his hair than white. In the flickering lights of the house of Hades, one could see iridescent color reflect along the locks, like a pearl. Zagreus’s fingers would twitch at the sight, desperate to run his fingers through it. He imagined it was as soft as downy feathers. 

He noticed Hypnos’s skin. 

It was flawless and lavender. Zagreus had always been amused at the ichor that rose to the god’s cheeks so easily, making Hypnos blush indigo, but now, he felt something else throb in his chest whenever the deep purple flush occurred in seeming response to Zagreus’s flirtations, which had become unbiddenly more common. 

When Zagreus’s mind wandered, he fantasized about the swaths of lilac hidden beneath Hypnos’s tunic. He thought of lifting the red chiton to run his hands over taught skin, of grabbing the supple flesh underneath, of hearing the small gasps spill from Hypnos’s lips, of leaving hickeys that bloomed fuschia along his neck that would have to be hidden beneath his gold jewelry. He thought of that violet color spreading, flushing his ears and chest and shoulders. 

Hypnos was petite, to say the least, but Zagreus knew that he was strong -- all gods were. Hypnos was lithe as a dancer, and muscle rippled just underneath the skin. He thought about how easy it would be to wrap Hypnos in his arms and map every inch of his deceptively delicate body. 

Hypnos was also always cool to the touch. 

He supposed that made sense given the nature of his and his family’s existence as Chthonic gods, but Zagreus recognized the irony of how just the thought of Hypnos lit a fire beneath his skin. The irony of how the chilled touch of the god of sleep which brought mortals and gods alike a peaceful rest caused Zagreus to lie awake at night. He would stare at his ceiling, wishing to feel the gentle weight of Hypnos’s form on top of him in bed, chasing his nightmares away with a kiss and gifting him merciful sleep. 

Whenever Zagreus rose from the pool of blood, Hypnos was there to greet him. He would make a joke about how Zagreus should maybe try not to get killed so often, but Zagreus would pay it no mind, as sometimes, his focus would be on Hypnos’s hands when the little god would gesture as he spoke. 

He had dainty hands -- long, graceful fingers like that of a musician’s. His nails were always painted gold. Zagreus thought it looked lovely. On one recent occasion, Zagreus was startled back to reality with Hypnos’s fingers snapping in front of his face. He apologized, embarrassed to have zoned out -- too busy thinking about how nice it would be to have those elegant fingers trace patterns along his skin. Hypnos only smiled lazily, none the wiser at where his mind led. 

Zagreus thought about Hypnos’s eyes. 

They were a gold purer than Midas’s touch. His eyes would glitter like two coins in the firelight. Zagreus knew that when working his magic, those eyes would glow like molten metal. 

Zagreus had only once before seen Hypnos’s fury that was well-concealed beneath a cheery exterior, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it again -- directed at him or otherwise. It had paid as a good reminder that Hypnos, despite everything, was a force to be reckoned with. 

At the snap of his fingers, he could bring the strongest of gods to their knees. 

Zagreus had hated to see Hypnos pushed to that point. His voice shook and those flaming eyes brimmed with angry tears -- his whole body trembling with barely contained fury. It hadn’t even been about Hypnos. It was never about himself. The only time Zagreus had ever seen Hypnos’s wrath was for the sake of protecting his brother. Hypnos took anything dealt to him in stride, except when it came to family. He terrified Zagreus in the best way, and every day he was reminded that he was at Hypnos’s mercy. 

He thought about Hypno’s lips. 

When in the other god’s presence, he had a hard time not tracing the cupid’s bow and plump bottom lip. They looked soft, like the rest of him. They were the color of a rare orchid, and he would watch as they subtly trembled whenever Zagreus started to lean in too close, unable to help himself. From the other side of the room, without notice, Zagreus could indulge himself as Hypnos would bite and worry his bottom lip in concentration as he mulled over his worklists. Zagreus would’ve liked to bite them, too. 

Upon closer inspection, whenever Hypnos would part his lips or laugh, Zagreus swore he saw the glint of a gold tongue ring inside his mouth. Zagreus pictured himself pushing Hypnos against the wall right there in the hall, capturing those lips in a heated kiss and confirming for himself what Hypnos tasted like. Zagreus bet he tasted like nectar, or the sweetest ambrosia. Olympus only knew how many bottles he likely had in store from all the times Zagreus had gifted a bottle to him. The image of Hypnos uncorking a bottle he’d saved and pouring a rivulet down Zagreus’s torso, just to lick it clean would not leave his mind. 

From the occasions that Zagreus was lucky enough to hug the sleepy god, he knew that Hypnos smelled of rich, drowsy flowers. Soporific jasmine, chamomile, milk and honey. When Zagreus slept, his dreams were filled with that scent. He dreamt of poppy fields and the River Lethe and of Hypnos’s laughter -- light as bells. Zagreus wondered if as the god of sleep, Hypnos was capable of purposefully instilling those thoughts in him, but perished the thought. Hypnos did not have to lift a finger to put himself on Zagreus’s mind. 

He dreamed of Hypnos’s silvery voice. Most of the time, it reflected reality -- Hypnos comforting him after another failed escape attempt with humor or kind words, though sometimes he would dream about what that voice sounded like breathy and strained, feeling Hypnos’s sweet breath next to his ear as he clung to him and raked those manicured nails down his back. 

And in the end, he simply thought about Hypnos. 

He thought about how Hypnos’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him returning home. He thought about the soft, genuine smile that spread on his face whenever Zagreus took the time to talk to him. He thought about the slight tremor in Hypnos’s voice when he thanked Zagreus for bringing him gifts, his hands holding the object reverently, clearly not being used to ever being given anything. 

Hypnos was ethereal, beautiful, and most importantly, the most golden-hearted god Zagreus had the fortune of knowing. 

Every time, Zagreus was brought to his knees at just the thought of him, and he would never understand how anyone could spend time with Hypnos and not be reminded that they are in the presence of a god. 

So when did his love for Hypnos become so deep and maddening? Zagreus couldn’t say. But he longed to spend the rest of his eternity learning where Hypnos liked to be touched, how he liked to be kissed, and what made him laugh. Everything, because Hypnos deserved everything. 

If only he muster up the courage to tell him that. 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh come talk to me on twitter or tumblr @reanimatorjuice hrgfdgjk


End file.
